Common Dreads
by ABadGirlInHarlem
Summary: We all have our downfalls and they hit. Hard. What do we do when we hit they? We look up to our idols. But sometimes our idols can't save us. This is the story about how they ended up in a mental hospital before their bands formed and where they are today. *includes Vic Fuentes, Gerard Way, Mitch Lucker, Alex Gaskarth, Kellin Quinn, Austin Carlile, and Oliver Sykes.
1. Deepest Cut Vic Fuentes POV

Vic Fuentes POV

I just sat there, feeling empty. Nothing would come out. I tried and tried but I still felt the feeling of nothing. I _needed_ to feel something again. The feeling of the sharp edge plunging into my soft flesh revived me from dying. It kept me living. It made me feel. That was what I was looking for. My retreat. _ But I can't. _I promised him that I wouldn't let the razor take hold of me again. He told me I was much stronger than that. That I was so much better than a blade. A dull, metal blade. But this is where it contradicts itself. That razor sparkles in that light, giving it a rainbow shine. The blade isn't just metal, it is a part of me. I _need_ it. I need my blade. I can't be strong and brave anymore. I need it. I got up off my bed and race into the bathroom. I pulled the cabinet open and search for my weapon of destruction. Nothing. They were all gone. I ran back into my room and search the whole room. Not under my pillow, not in my cabinet, nowhere. I was starting to shake from withdrawal. God damn it where is it?! I continued to search frantically for them. Nothing. I just stood there, denying that Mike took them all. I _need_ them. I can't survive without them. That is when I gave up and fell to the floor sobbing. I can't do this. I need help. Soon, I heard the door burst open and the person's breathe got caught in their throat. I honestly didn't care anymore. Soon the figure walks further into the room and bent down to my level. I was still curled up into a ball. I turned and look towards the person and saw it was Mike. I just went back into my ball and cried even harder. Now he will think I am a failure. Like I said before, I don't care anymore.

"I c-can't do t-this Mike. I nee-ee-d to c-cut. Please let me do it. I need to fe-e-l again. " I sobbed harder into the carpet. He remained silent and then I soon felt him picking me up and let me sob into his shoulder. Mike knew that I was addicted I couldn't hide it anymore. He didn't think it was _that_ bad but for once, I knew he was wrong. I cried even harder now, knowing that one of these day that he will tell mom and dad and be put into a mental hospital in a blink of an eye. Mike then started to make those soothing noise and rubbing my back to make an attempt to comfort me and for once, he was somewhat successful. Soon I regained my composure but my wrist still itched for that familiar sensation. I climbed out of his lap and looked at him. His brown eyes were filled with worry, sympathy, and concern. I have never seen these emotions in his eyes. I feel guilty now. I got him involved. I knew I should of never gotten him in this mess.

"Mikey, I am sorry, i-its just hard the first couple weeks, y'know? Don't worry about me Mikes. I am fine." I tried to say as serious as I possibly could. The crowners of his mouth twisted into a frown and that's when his arms sprung around me, engulfing me into another one of his famous bear hugs. I was in shock for a moment. He knew better not to give me a hug. From what is going on, he knew better. I awkwardly put my arms around him and patted his back. He soon released me and just looked at me again. He still hasn't said anything yet which made my more nervous. I knida just nodded my head down and stared at the carpet.

"Vic, this is the fourth time in 7 days. I think you need help; or at least talk to mom and dad about it. I can't lose you Vic. You're my older brother and you're my best friend. I love you dude but you need help." His tone was something I have never heard before. It was soft and quiet and that was the push. I know I need help. I know I do. It's just I don't want to stop. It makes me feel alive and… and I'm addicted to it. I can't lie to myself. It is a part of my daily life and each day the cuts grow more deep, more long, more painful but yet it feels _soo_ good. I love the feeling of the blade tickle my wrist before I cut and after it, the blood pours old and it looks beautiful run down my tan wrists. It is keeping me alive in a way. I sighed and looked back to Mike. If I agree that I need help, I might as well tell him that what happened yesterday. He is going to kill me b-but you know if I am going to get help, I will have to tell him. Here goes nothing I guess.

"You're right. I need help, Mikes. I can't go a day without cutting. Since we are getting on the topic of help-" I started to roll up my shorts and my hoodie sleeves. "I got a hold of the scissors from your room and-and I'm sorry but I _had_ to." He then saw the long, fresh scars on my thighs and wrists. There was hardly any flesh left for me to cut on my thighs now and my wrists were just a fresh wound that needed to be fixed. It was painful at first when I started to cut my thighs. It hurt to walk anywhere and would continuously bleed but after a while, they just adapted to the pain. They almost felt numb now. My wrists are a whole different story. I started in 7th grade and when I pulled the razor out and slice my wrist, a feeling of relief filled my whole body and I felt so much better. Happy, even but the next few days I was okay until my body wanted more…and more…and more. I gave in and cut at least 10 times on my wrists at night. Soon that feeling was fading and I needed something stronger. I got another razor and cut my thighs and it was a whole new thrill for me. I felt the thing I needed to feel again. Soon, it got out of control. I remember being in the bathroom and was trying to see through my tears. It was such a bad week and I needed something. I got into the bathroom and the blade dug so deep, I passed out in my own blood. I, being the idiot I am, forgotten to lock the door and Mike found me. He freaked out and it made me come back into consciousness again. I will never forget the look on his face. Denial, anger and sadness filled him and all I did was nothing. I was limp, numb, I didn't even think. He just took me back to my room and fixed up the cuts. That was a week ago. Now it is been 7 days and I already failed his promise. I got out of my daze and looked to Mike and I nearly cried. My baby brother was crying. I caused him to cry. I have never seen him cry before in my 17 years of life. I am the worse person ever to make their little brother cry.

"Mike, don't cry. Please don't cry. If you _really_ want me, I will get help. I promise you." Now it is my turn to comfort him. For once, I regret cutting. If it tore Mike up this much, I know I need to stop. Mike soon stood up and grabbed my hand and lifted me off the floor. I was confuse to where we were going but had an idea in the back of my mind. While Mike grasped my wrist, I rapidly pulled down my sleeves and pant legs. We managed to get down the stairs and into the family room. That was when I knew he was going to tell my mom and dad. There was my mom and dad sitting in there recliners watching some Spanish show. Tears were already forming in my eyes and I knew I couldn't hide it any longer .

"Madre y Padre, necesitamos a hablar."(_Mom and dad, we need to talk)_ Mike said. My parents don't understand English so Spanish is the only way to communicate. I was starting to shake and Mike hasn't let go of my wrist yet. To be honest, his grasp was too tight and my wrist ache. My parents looked up and my dad turned the TV off and sat up.

"Si, ¿qué es?" (_Yes, what is it)._ My dad said. At this point, I felt the hot tears run down my face and could tell that some of my cuts were starting to re-bleed. Mike turned to me and noticed my fear. He gave me a concerned look and I nodded my head. A small smile raised from his lips.

"Victor necesita ayuda." My mom and dad cocked their head to the side. Mike then turned around and nodded his head. I then slowly pushed up my left sleeve and a gasp came from both of my parents. I then moved onto my right sleeve and a worse reaction came out. I then slowly lift the my pants sleeves up my pant sleeves to reveal more cuts. U then heard the muffle sounds of crying and instantly looked down at the carpet. I can't see my mother cried.

"Victor, ¿Por qué? ¿Qué ha pasado? ¿Por qué has hecho esto?" My mother said through sobs and flowing tears. I couldn't help burst into tears. Mike instantly gave me a hug and as a reflex I flinched. After a few seconds, I relaxed and cried yet again and my sobs mixed into my mother's sounds. I soon stopped crying and turned to face my dad. Tears were streaming down his face. I then took a deep breath and faced my day.

"Padre, Necesito ayuda. No puedo hacer esto por mi cuenta más. Mike ha tratado de ayudar, pero no puedo hacerlo. Necesito ayuda medicial. Yo no quiero que te molesta más. Te amo chicos. Así que estoy pidiendo ayuda" (_I need help. I can't do this on my own anymore. Mike has tried to help but I can't do it. I need medical help. I don't want to make you upset anymore. I love you guys. So i am asking for help _). My voice breaking here and there while telling them. My father nodded and nose sniffed. Mike walked over to comfort my mother. I just kinda stood there, disappointed at myself until I heard my mother walk towards me.

"Oh Victor, debe de nosotros dicho antes. Podríamos ustedes ayudado. Ya sabemos que te vas a llevar. Es un lugar especial para las personas que sufren de corte. Estarás mejor al poco tiempo." (_You should of told us sooner. We could of helped you. We already know where you will be going. It is a special place for people who suffer from cutting. You'll be better soon)_ I sadly nodded my head and I do hope I will get

better soon. I then left the room where my brother and parents cried while I went upstairs to prepare for what may seem the worse two months of my life.


	2. Blame It Gerard Way POV

Frank Iero's POV:

"I'mmm fineeee, Frankie." Gerard giggled out from the corner of my mouth. "Frankkk, why are yoouuu moooving? Look! There are twoooooo of yoooou!" Frank stood like the midget he was and his hands on shaking hips and a permanent scowl look on his face. More giggles erupted from Gerard mouth and he shook even more. Frank let out a growl and rolled his eyes. He knew Gerard drank so more than he normally did. Yeah, Gerard was drunk mostly every night but tonight was the worse he ever saw him. He was swaying like a swing, eyes sunken in, breath reeked of vodka and jack, and voice slurred all together. Technically, he was a messed up tornado- maybe worse, more like a hurricane. He knew Gerard was under a lot of pressure and stress but to drink that much scared him. Isn't there any other way you can deal with the stress? I know Mikey is getting concerned. I was lost in thought outside of the bus until I heard a bam and a curse word. I looked towards where Gerard was but must have disappeared out of thin air. For being drunk, he was as silent like a graveyard. I quick ran to the place to where I heard the surprising sound and what I saw made me feel a bit mad, a bit sorry, and a bit pissed. Gerard was on the ground; black hoodie was covered in the thick green plant's leaves and was lying face down on the curb. I groaned silently at him but to be honest, I was scared. Is he actually alright? I mean, if your best friend are lying down in the middle of the street, face down, wouldn't you be a bit uneasy about this situation? I rushed over to the drunken Gerard and placed my cup on the asphalt ground. I sat down and pushed him over so he was lying on his back. Raven colored hair spread around and his hazel eyes were locked with a key and mouth a gap. Holy shit. Is he dead? My best friend can't be dead. Nope, I am not going to believe it.

"Gerard..? Gerard! GERARD!" I screamed and slapped him across the face. His eyes flew open and looked confuse…maybe even lost. Once he came back into focus, he saw me and instantly started giggling yet again. A sign of relief escaped my lips and a small, and I mean small smile was plastered onto my face but soon was painted over with my permanent scowl.

"Come on, dude. I'll help you up." I grasped Gerard's callous hands and pulled him up. I must of pulled too hard and he got up on his two feet, yes, but stumbling. I instantly grabbed his shoulders to balance him and soon he was okay to stand. I, meaning the whole band as well, couldn't stand to see Gerard ruining his career that he had worked so hard for but now he is just going downhill.

"Care to explain what happened?" I asked, perplexed by his answer. He nodded his head furiously and waited for me to pick up my red solo cup.

"Now what happened was…"Gerard paused for a second. "I um…went right off the sidewalk and into the bushes." He seemed so ambitious; like… like if he had the most exciting experience before. Not only that, but he also seemed so proud of himself. I sighed at the result and helped brush off the access leaves off him.

"I was like whoaaa! I was like... I've killed so many plants!" When he said that, I really couldn't contain my laughter. I mean, who really cares about falling into the bushes? They will just grow back. While laughing, I felt a tug from my hand and instantly looked up. Gerard had stolen my beer and gulped the whole thing down. I sighed at this result and scratched the back of my neck. The band knew this day was going to come at some point. The day Gerard Arthur Way spiraled out of controlled. Even his best friend couldn't even save him. I bowed my head down in sadness and I knew what to do. Before I had time to open my mouth, Gerard's mouth was already filled with something else. Vomit. Once it was released from his pink lips, I ran over to hold his hair back and place a hand on his back. Me, being grossed out by human fluids, turned away. This had to stop. It has been almost a year and I am putting my foot down. Once he was done, I wrapped my arm around his back and lead him back to the tour bus. Once we entered, Mikey was on the couch and looked up from his bass. His expression changed within two seconds from a smile to a perfect 0. He instantly flew up and took Gerard away from me and led him towards the bunks. Before leaving, he turned around and whispered a quick thank you. I returned a sympatric smile. I sat down on the couch and sighed. What are we going to do? I kept pondering the situation until Ray walked in, confused as ever.

"Hey, what's up with Gerard? Has he been drinking?" I didn't even lift my eyes from the stain in the carpet. A simple nod would suffice. Ray sighed and plopped down next to me and we sat in silence for the next few minutes.

"I didn't think it would get this bad. We talked to him and he promised to stop. What else is there to do?" Ray said, obviously concerned for Gerard's wellbeing.

"I don't know Ray but there is always that one thing. We said we would only mention it as a last resort but…honestly… it is ours and his last resort. We can't do anything else for him. He needs professional help." I said. It was true. That was the only thing to do at this point. What we were trying to do wasn't working anymore. I think this is someone's job for him. He is not going to get better from the help of us.

"You're right man. It's out of control and there is nothing more for us to do." That was the end of a long day but what a short night. Mikey made sure Gerard was in bed and was safe. The next morning, I woke up to hear Gerard moaning.

"What happened?" I heard him whisper in the next bunk. I heard him get out of his bed and walk straight into the bathroom. A sudden feeling washed over me and I leapt from the bed, knowing he was going to go for the prescription pain killers. Before he even closed the door, I pulled him out of the bathroom by his forearm followed by loud cursing and kicks to my leg. I ignored it out and banged on Ray's, Mikey's, and Bob's bunk. They all knew what was going to happen. Once I threw Gerard down on the bench, he was bright red and pissed off. Everyone else squished together on the couch. It was silence for a few moments until Mikey spoke first.

"Gerard, we are concerned for you. Yo-our drinking is getting out of hand and if you aren't drunk, you're high from the prescription meds. You need to stop and you kn-"

"Mikey Way! You know I am perfectly fine! I can stop at any given poi-"

"THAT'S A LIE GERARD! YOU KNOW IT. YOU OUT OF CONTROLL AND YOU NEED HELP. WE CAN'T WATCH YOU THROW YOUR LIFE AWAY AFTER WORKING SO HARD. YOU NEED HELP. NOT FROM US BUT FROM PROFESSIONALS." I screamed out. Everybody sunk lower in into the couch besides Gerard. His face turn red and rage ignited him.

"WHY DO YOU CARE? NO ONE GIVES A FUCK IF I DRINK OR GET HIGH. NO ONE CARES IF YOU'RE DRUNK BUT OH! IF GERARD DRINKS ONE BEER HE NEEDS HELP. BULL SHIT FRANK. BULL SHIT!"

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW? IF YOU AREN'T HIGH, YOUR DRUNK. IF YOU AREN'T DRUNK, YOU'RE HIGHER THEN A KITE. YOU DON'T REALIZE IT GERARD. DO YOU REMEMBER ANY OF LAST NIGHT? HOW I HELD YOUR HAIR BACK AS YOU VOMITED INTO THE GRASS? OR HOW ABOUT YOU PASSED OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREETS? NO? OR HOW ABOUT YOU SAID YOU SAW TWO OF ME? DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU DON'T REMEMBER? OH YEAH BECAUSE YOU WERE FUCKING DRUNK!" I screamed out now, surprisingly, tears were running down my face.

"I don't need help. I am fine. AND I FUCKING DON'T NEED ANYONE ELSE'S HELP." He got up from the couch and went to the fridge without realizing it and almost reached for a beer. Bob jumped from the couch and pointed towards Gerard.

"SEE?! SEE?! IT'S NOT EVEN 10 AM AND YOU ALREADY ARE STARTING TO DRINK GERARD. DO YOU SEE ANYONE OF JUST DRINKING? YOU ARE AN ADDICT GERARD. DONT DENY IT. YOU KNOW IT GERARD." Bob screamed, louder and rougher than any of us could muster. Gerard understood what Bob said and slowly left the beer in the fridge. Silently, he walked over to the couch and tears left his eyes and took a long journey down to his cheeks. All of us were tearing up now. Gerard figured it out. He really does need help.

"Gee, we aren't trying to be mean. You know you are addictive to pain killers and alcohol and you realize it or not, you need help. We care for you Gee, it's just we run out of options. This is ours and yours last resort. Please Gerard. Let us help you." I said, my voice breaking here and there. It continued to stare at the ceiling but soon he nodded his head. Mikey got up from the couch and ran to his big brother, grasping him in a hug.

"Let's give them a minute." I said towards Ray and Bob. They nodded and we descended into the back of the bus. Soon, we could hear one of the sobs from the Way brothers and we knew from there, Gerard was going to get better. Gerard just knew he would be living in hell for two months.


	3. It Never Ends Vic Fuentes POV

**(Don't worry! The other guys will be involved shortly!)**

Vic's POV

With my suitcase in one hand and my arm around my mother back, reality started to hit me. I was going to a mental hospital and was getting help. To be honest, I am still terrified to walk through the doors. What will wait for me inside? Will they turn me into a pill popping zombie like everyone else? Before I could even think about, my mother's sobs erupted from her chest.

I tried to comfort my mother by hushing her sobs and muttering soft words to her but to no avail, she was a wreck. With one final hug, she left me and got into the car with my father. I let out a shaky side and soon I feel Mike's warm hand meet mine. I turned to face him and a look of sympathy was on his face.

"It will be okay. The sooner you go in here, the faster you will come out. C'mon bro, let's go inside. I bet it won't be that bad." I shook my head in agreement. It was getting cold and I was even in a sweatshirt. I was not going to show or give any hints to why I was in here so I, being the smartest person in the world, decided to wear a sweatshirt. There was other ways to hide them but god damn, I need to think things through better. We made it up the concrete steps and walked towards the glass doors and terror started to fill me.

"Mike stop. I can't do this. I don't belong in here. I am perfectly fine! See?" I faked a smile, hoping he would buy it, but no. He did the exact opposite. He got done to my height and looked me through his eyes. That was one feature about Mike that I loved. His brown eyes. His eyes were more of a liquid chocolate color that could hypnotize anyone if you stared to long. They just pull you under.

"You have to do this for me. For mom. For dad. For you. You told us and that is a huge step. You can't fall back on this now. I want you to get better and you want to as well. Once you walk through the doors, only help is in there. And that's what you need. And if you try, you will be out soon, and you can be the old Vic that everyone loves. Please?" Mike said, almost begging. I really don't want to do this but… I swallowed the lump in my throat and I nodded my head. Mike smiled and we walked through those metal glass doors. The walls were painted a baby blue and chairs were scattered all around the well lite room. Floor to ceiling windows covered the right wall. The wall facing me was surrounded by one door that looked like it leads down several other halls and to the left; there was a receptionist along with two nurses. Mike took my sweaty palm and walked towards the receptionist. She looked up from her computer, she had a sincere smile on her face and it gave me a slight comfort.

"Hi I am Mike Fuentes, and this is my brother Vic Fuentes. We called earlier about admitting Vic here…" Mike said, trailing on at the end. The lady nodded her head and smiled. She got out of her chair and walked to one of the nurses. You could hear the mumbles and hushed whisperings until they both came over. The nurse was 5'6, slim, caramel colored hair, and deep brown eyes and had a simple complexion.

"Hello Vic. I am Nancy and I am going to take you back to ask you a couple of questions really quick and give you a physical exam. Mike can come along as well if he wants." I nodded my head and before I could even ask, Mike's hand slipped into mine and we proceeded to follow Nancy. We went around the desk into another room that I didn't see before. It was just a few couches and a chair, a water cooler was in back of the room, and the windows were open, letting in a slight breeze. It was almost relaxing in a way. She led us to one of the push couches and sat down.

"The doctor will be here in a moment." She spoke with a light airy voice and a smile grazed her face. Once the oak door was closed, I let out a sign of relief and sunk into the couch. Mike looked over and smiled faintly.

"You are doing so well so far Vic. I know how much you hate people but good job remaining calm and cooperating well." I smiled a bit but remained silent. He knows in situations like these I am not really good at speaking to people I don't know so usually I become mute. Before I knew it, I got lost in my thoughts and a brief knock was on the door and another woman in a white coat and professional clothes entered and took a seat in front of me. She set her clipboard down and sat up with perfect posture.

"Hello. I am Dr. Addison Shepard, the head psychologist here." She turned her head and looked at me. "I believe that you are Vic, I assume?" She asked. I nodded my head and stared at my fingers. Man I have to clip these or something.

"Well Vic, it is a pleasure to meet you. May I ask you a couple of questions?" Her voice softened and I nodded in agreement. This time I looked up and gave her my full attention.

"First off, how old are you?" She asked and I looked to Mike. He nodded his head, understanding and looked to the doctor.

"Sorry, Vic becomes mute when he has to talk to strangers. He doesn't do well with other people. Anyways, Vic is 24." She nodded her head and scribbled it down onto the paper. She popped her head up from the paper and spoke towards us.

"Vic, it is okay that you don't trust people or talk to others but for me to help you, you must talk to me. What has been going on lately?" She looked as if she actually cared and I swallowed hard and began.

"I feel nothing; worthless, like if I am just an old rag doll sitting on a shelf that still needs to be dusted. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I can't do anything but cut. I need to cut. It is the only thing that makes me feel alive, that I feel good about. I hate going outside because people look at me and point and if I hear a person laugh I think they are laughing about me or making fun of me. It's to the point where I can't sleep. I lay in bed hours on end and I can't do anything. Same with eating. I am never hungry anymore so I don't eat anything. It's to the point where I decided to get help." She scribbled more things down as Mike rubbed my back for support. I breathe out and closed my eyes, feeling a little better getting that off my chest. Soon the click of a pen filled the silence and was set down on the hard wood.

"Well, it is a good thing you came here. We are here to help you, not to kill you or make you take a thousand pills. We want you to enjoy your life and smile and to be happy. In your case, you are the exact opposite. We are going to admit you and help you with your addictions. You'll be out in no time! It was a pleasure to talk to you Vic and I will see you soon!" She smiled as Nancy came in.

"Alright Vic. This is where Mike has to go now. I am sorry but in a week, Mike can visit you again. I am just going to take you to an exam room and get you settled in." I nodded my head and got up off the couch and embraced myself in Mike's arms. I couldn't help but let a few tears escape my face and land onto Mike's Drop Dead hoodie.

"Be strong, Vic. I will see you soon. Try to get better, okay?" He said, his voice breaking here and there. I nodded my head and felt the tears rip my face up. Soon he was released and walked out of the room. Soon, a waterfall was starting from my eyes and Nancy had to lead me into the room. She performed a basic medical exam but near the end, she produces a shot. A shot that had a needle. Needles are my biggest fear.

"Now Vic, I am going to give you a shot. It will hurt for a second and then it is done." She said kindly. I shook my head against it. She cocked her head and looked puzzled.

"It's just for a second! Don't worry!" She came closer and that is when I became wild. I began to scream for help and to get out of there. Nancy tried to calm me down but that failed big time. I accidentally kicked the syringe out of her hand and it went flying. She had a look of surprise and raced to the wall and pressed a button. I continued to scream and run around the room until a group of nurses came. They all tried to get my attention but I ignored them. Soon, I was being held down and was squirming to get out of their grasps until I felt a pinch into my side. Nothing happened and I screamed even louder until I felt a second sharp pinch in my neck. I wiggled even harder but soon felt a warm sensation cast over me. Everything became blurry, warm, and heavy. I couldn't even feel my arms or legs. It felt almost good. I still tried to fight although they were trying to comfort me. Soon my brain became cloudy and I just lay on the soft warm ground looked at the colors on the walls. I didn't realized that I was being pick up and laid on a bed, also having my wrist covered in cotton and being handcuffed to the rails. The colors danced over me until they became dark and I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.


	4. Miserable At Best Gerard Way's POV

Gerard Way's POV

"Frank, I really don't think I need to do this. I haven't drunk anything in 12 hours and haven't done any prescriptions so I think we can go back to the bus and y'know chill and hang out? I am perfectly fine!" Oh god I prayed that he believed me. That some really tiny parts in his midget body that he would believe me. But, of course, I was just plain wrong. Frank rolled his eyes as he drove us closer and closer to Hell. I gave out a frustrated sigh as he continued to drive down the long highway blasting the Smashing Pumpkins, which I gave no protest to that. That is one band that helps keep my cool. Besides David Bowie and possibly The Strokes and The Smiths, those were not only been my favorite bands, but also the music that has kept me calm during the worse. Before a small show in New Jersey, I take out my MP3 and listen to the music as it takes over my mind and body, trapping me into the intense sound. I continued to stare out at the overcast sky and the rain slowly falling down onto the bushy tops of the trees and slowly make it down the dark brown bark. It was quite peaceful really. The rain soon crashed down harder, making the trees look heavier and cleaner. I decided to grab my sketch pad from the floor along with one of my half bitten, worn down eraser pencils and continued to draw what I saw through my eyes. The way the pencil danced onto the paper and the page lighting up and coming alive gave me great power that I held in my own two hands. Trees covered the page, along with drops of rain and puffy clouds mirrored me until Frank must have hit a bump in the road and the pencil sliding away from my hands.

"FRANK! DO YOU MUST HAVE TO HIT EVERY SINGLE BUMP AND PUDDLE ON THE WAY? BNJGFHRVNKIRDJN!" I screamed out and causing Frank to laugh only harder at me. I picked up the pencil from the carpeted ground and sighed at the broken tip. There goes another pencil. The sketchbook, on the other hand, was still perfectly intact. No rips or stains, especially no mud stains. Relief washed over me as I flipped through the faded pages and of course filled the pages with vampires, zombies, monsters, superheroes, and my specialty, super villains. Occasionally there were landscapes and portraits of people and tattoo ideas that were drawn for Frank and Ray but that was about it. In my bag, which was quickly thrown together with the help of Mikey so that I wouldn't steal any booze or pills, was of course, band t-shirts, skinny jeans, a pair of decent looking converse and a beanie. You never know when I hat can come in handy. Besides clothes, there were two band new, crisp looking sketchbooks along with a wide variety of color pencils and blending tools. At least I will have time to draw. I placed the old sketchbook in my bag and sunk back into the chair. What have I gotten myself into? I turned up the radio that was now playing Cage the Elephant and shut my eyes. You could hear the distant hum of the engine and the wipers attacking the window so the midget could see. To be honest, I wasn't that terrified to go, I just really did not want to be there with the mentally insane. Hopefully I can meet someone who is normal or shares the same problem as me. It would be so weird if I was stuck with someone who talks to their selves. I seriously could not stand it. From the warmth of the car and the soothing sound of the engine, I think I must have fallen asleep because the next thing that came into focus was the midget attempting to wake me up.

"God damn it, Gerard. Get your fat ass up. C'mon dude, we are here!" His irritating voice filled the sound and I let out a groan. God I am not looking forward to this. I sat up from the soft cloth seats and grabbed my backpack, ripped and tear beyond belief, and slung it over my shoulder. Frank remained silent as I got out of the car and I sighed. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be a failure, that is all I am but I don't give a flying fuck. I mean, yeah I want to do this for Mikey and Ray and Bob and Frank but I just have so much fin drinking. I can forget about things and be happy for that little bit of time, but apparently, it's time for me to 'grow up and act like an adult'. Life sucks. We walked up the concrete steps and each step my regret got bigger and bigger. That's when I kinda gave up.

"Frank, uhh…do I really have to do this? I, um, I know I need help, but this…this is kinda a lot for me? Please don't make me do this? You know me, I am pretty brave and tough but…what I am trying to say is that I need your help right now. Don't let me out of here until I am good. Don't let me run away. Lock me up in here. No matter how bad I try to protest right now, don't let me out. Okay?" Frank's face softened and nodded his head. We stood there for a moment and gulped in some air.

"You can do this, Gerard. You are so much tougher than this." Frank whispered, standing on his tip toes to whisper in my ear I nodded and we proceeded through the doors and it was a decent place inside. It was big with some plush chairs scattered around and almost too calm and comforting. I know I am not going to like this place. I know I need help but I don't like others helping me. I sighed as I made this observation. Frank placed his tiny hand in the small of my back and led me to the desk. The receptionist and the one nurse stood there, looking happy that I arrived. False hope most likely filled them, knowing that I would be fixed, but I doubt it. As we walked closer, a guy who must be in his early teens who had a wide variety of tattoo's and was tall as a tree. Black hair escaped under a backwards snapback and a simple grey washed t-shirt and shredded jeans were clad on his slender frame. His head was down and the door left a loud band as he left. He seemed if he was in a rush to get out or maybe was pissed off. A hand flew to his eye and wiped something away and that is when I understood someone he loved was in here. He soon looked up from the ground and saw me. He gave a small smile and brushed past us. Frank looked up and gave me a smile of encouragement. We finally approached the desk and I walked up.

"Hello. I am uh… Gerard Way. My friends called here and uh… admitted me? They think-" Frank cleared his throat and nudged me. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "I need help." I said as I looked into the ladies eye with pain and despair. The lady smiled and nodded with her head.

"That's perfectly okay, Gerard. We all make mistakes and we come here to fix it. All I need you to do is sign this form, along with his man. All it says is that we are responsible until you are completely better. As for him, he has permission to take you out of here at any given point. I know it may seem like a place out of a horror movie were we lock you up and you never get out but it is the exact opposite. We are here to help and make sure you get better." I looked to Frank and he nodded his head, agreeing with the receptionist person to sign the wavier to be put under someone else's hands to become better. I want to do this but I just don't know if I can do this. This means no more beer, no more pills, no more drugs, no more fun, no more parties, no more Bert, no more My Chem- NO! I am not doing this. No way will I give up this band and the popularity. I enjoy drinking and getting high with Bert. Bert! Oh my God how can I forget about him? He is my best friend, my protector, my everything. He makes sure I don't over drink; he makes sure he watches me when I get high, he takes care of me. I honestly don't know why Frank, Mikey, Ray, and Bob hate Bert. Yeah, we got drunk together and high together and yeah, we did get in trouble from the police and if I am kinda of thinking about this, I did spend a lot of time with him and was a bit of bitch when we weren't high or drunk. I still have a scar from where he punched me…. He did call me fat and ugly. Maybe he led me to this problem. NO! I help me in hard times.

"No. I am not doing this. I can't do this to Bert. He is my baby, my protector, my lover, my everything. I don't need help. I am fine the way I am. So what if I drink every day and pop pills and get higher than the sky? I enjoy my lifestyle so you need to fuck off Frank and get out of my business. I am not addicted. There is no way in hell that I am addicted. I can stop at any time. Yeah so maybe that one day I drank a little too much and smoked a little too much but who are you to judge? You drink too! We are drink! I just drink a little more than the American average. You think I am going to get hurt when I am drunk or high? I have Bert to take care of me. He helps take the pain away and I can feel okay. I can feel happy when I am high." I was so caught up in the moment I spilled out something's I shouldn't. "You know what else?" I rolled my sweatshirt sleeves up and it showed my bloody, stitched up wrists that kissed the skin with red vertically lines. "I cut! I fucking cut because of what you guys say! I am fine! I am perfect! There is just too much pressure and when Bert hits me and calls me a slut, a worthless, fat, slut that is good for nothing. I deserve every single thing I get and it is all true! It is all true because no one cares. No one gives a fuck if Gerard Arthur Way drinks himself to death! No one gives a fuck if I overdose on pills! No one gives a fuck if I continue to starve myself every single day! I want Bert to see me as skinny and beautiful, not ugly and fat. I try to please everyone and I am just so tired. I am so done with everyone bullshit. I want to be happy! I want to be normal like the rest of everyone and be the awesome singer for My Chemical Romance! I will not lose this band because of my stupid life and my fucked up problems. So I don't need help. I just have to go on living this way and sooner than later I will be fine. C'mon Frank we are going." I gripped the midget's hand and pulled him but he stood there. I turned around and he grasped my wrist and did not let go. It just made me more pissed off that he stood there.

"No, Gerard. You are staying here. After what you told me and Helena, you are staying." He said, his voice quivering and shaking. I threw a glance to where the receptionist was sitting and I saw both her and the nurse are gone. No. They are going to get me and I don't want to stay here. Bert will only hurt me more.

"Frank! No no no no no! I have to leave! Bert will only be pissed and hurt me more." That was when the tears started to come down. "Frank, I have to do this. I need to be strong. I can do this. Please let me go!" I could hardly see anything while the tears rolled down. Frank's grip softens and pulled me into a hug. I couldn't help but sobbed into his shoulders. Tears were coming out like waterfalls and soon his hand placed my back and began to rub small circles. We both sunk to the floor and I sobbed even harder, having Frank fully supports me. What seemed like years, only turned to seconds when a group of nurses came and tried to comfort me and take me away from Frank. That really set me off. I can't lose my best friend at this point. Frank tried to let go but I clung to him as much as I could. I wasn't even listening to them and just continued to cry. All of a sudden, Frank grabbed my face and locked eyes with me. I have no idea why but I just stared into his warm eyes and saw that he even had tears streaming down his face. Soon I felt a quick pinch and everything started to slow. Everything began to blur and become really quiet and warm. It felt so good that I let go and fell back into something soft. One thing I could still feel was Frank's rough and warm callused hand. I searched for him, trying to see past the blurriness but all I saw were bright colors and people's faces being mixed up in the crowd. Finally I saw a figure that looked like Frank. The feeling was taking over me and I wanted to sink into it but I had to tell Frank something first.

"Fraaank?" I didn't even know if my voice was being herd but I saw his figure nod his head, making things get even more blurry. The last thing that came from my lips before passing out was:

"I love you."


	5. Iris Vic Fuentes POV

Vic Fuentes POV:

"How long do you think he has been passed out for?"

"I don't know. He was hopped on drugs since I got here so maybe a day and a half? Two days?" I started to wake up and assumed the two guys were talking about me. My head hurt way too much for being asleep and my body felt sore for no apparent reason. I tried to roll over onto my side but something soft and something sharp prevented me from moving. I groaned at the amount of pain and went back to my original position.

"Dude… I think he is waking up!" Some guy said with a thick heavy British accent. I tried to ignore them and fall back into my chemical slumber but the sound of the beeping machine and the rapid pace of the guy's talking were nearly impossible.

"Should…should someone call the nurse? I mean, he could go insane for all we know. We don't even know his name or why he is even here!" The man said. I recognized his voice when he answered the other guys' question. For now, let's just called him guy B. The first dude who asked a question was guy A and the dude with the accent is guy C. I was getting pretty pissed off at them for being so loud and was about ready to throw the pillow at them when someone acknowledged me.

"Hey, are…are you okay? I know the pills make you feel like shit but do you need a nurse?" Guy B asked, sounding sincere. I attempted to nod my head but it only made it hurt more. I think I rather die than fall asleep. I could hear some shuffling around, almost as if he was looking for something until I heard a quick 'ah ha!' from the other side of the room. I soon heard a quick beep come off the walls and moments later, I heard a door being open.

"Yes, Austin?" Someone walked in, a pleasant voice filling the dead air. Honestly, I don't remember where I was and what was happening. All I know is that I am in a room with three other guys, maybe more, and that I am feeling like shit from some pills I took. Did I do drugs or something? I may seem like the guy to do it but I have never done touched a single tablet in my 24 years of existence.

"The dude in front of me is waking up and he seems to be in a lot of pain so I called you…" Austin said, voice trailing off at the end. The whole room was dead silent except for the machines going and now the sound of shoes tapping the floor. I was nervous as the lady got closer to me. What if she was going to give me more drugs? I don't want to be a drug addict or anything like that. I just wanted to sleep and stay that way until I knew what was going on.

"Vic? Vic, if you are awake-" She stopped mid-sentence, placing her warm palm into my cold hand, "-squeeze my hand. I can make you feel better." Obeying her commands, I gave it a gentle squeeze. I don't know why I actually listened but I did it. Her warm hand held on to mine as I let her, letting the warmth affect my cold body.

"You are in a state of shock from the sedative and as a result, you aren't feeling the greatest. I will give you some pain killers for that. I also need to inform you that you had an episode when you first came here. The nurse was going to give you a shot but unfortunately, you began to have a panic attack and we had to put you under You have been sedated for two day, making you feel sick. That is perfectly okay to freak out at your fear but let's tries not to let that happen again. Since you are awake, can I get you something to drink?" I nodded my head but before I let the words spill out my mouth, my brain was so caught up in thought. I am in a mental hospital for self-harming and possible other things as well. I freaked out because of a needle and was put to sleep so my body could rest. The only other questions was who are the other two, the one being Austin, and two what is on my wrists? I struggled to sit up until I heard a quick gasp from the nurse.

"Here, wait a second. I put the bed up more." I heard her go behind the bed and soon I was in a sitting position. To be honest, I felt sick to my stomach from sitting up that much and at that sudden pace. I wanted to sleep more and get away from this feeling. I know I have been saying this much but seriously if you are lying in a bed feeling like you have been run over 30 times and then chopped up by a machete, you would be in my shoes. That is the whole reason for sleep. I finally muster up enough strength and finally opened my mouth.

"Can I please just have water and some meds?" My voice coming put all dry and hoarse, knowing it was only going to get worse. I heard a quick mmm-hmm and the sound of shoes going away. The door slammed and that was when the questions were fired.

"Who are you?" "Why are you here?" "Do you know the other dude?" "Are you okay?" and my personal favorite, "How old are you? You look like you are 16!" I managed a soft chuckle. They must really want to get to know a suicidal freak. It was amusing but yet I rather not answer them. There is no way I am opening my eyes and be intoxicated by the light. I just sunk deeper into the bed when I tried to roll over and that's when it hit. What was on my arms? I decided lie to myself and maybe just crack them open a little bit. I slowly stretched my eyes open and became frozen. What was on my arms kicked me into a panic attack. Bandages. Bandages covered my wrists all the way up to my elbows that hid my scars. My sweatshirt sleeves were rolled up to my mid arm and I nearly died. They know what I did. They know I am a cutter and that I have an 'episode'. They are going to bully me in here. They think that I don't even try; but they are wrong. SO wrong, I try so hard to be strong for Mike and I think it got to the point where it was so bad that I knew I could die from this. I looked to my right wrist and saw more bandages and…and a needle. There was a needle in my arm. A long, sliver, sharp and hollow needle was sticking into my wrist, feeling me the drugs that kept me in a peaceful slumber for so long, and if I would move, it would sting. I was really close to freaking out and being in my own world, I didn't hear the guys yelling at me or the nurse walking in. I was such in a trance towards the needle that I didn't even hear the nurse call my name. Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my back and it brought me to reality.

"Vic…look at me. Come on look at me." I turn towards the dude with the somewhat of a high pitched voice. I was utterly surprised that it was one of the boys instead of the nurse. The nurse was in the corner, now standing at the empty boy's bed and she had keys in her hand. I glanced harder at the bed and saw that she undid the restraints from the boy's body. I glanced down to my cut up wrist and saw the restraints that I didn't see before. They blended into the white gauze that wrapped my wrists and ankles, making them only 10 times heavier. I tried to lift them up but they could hardly move. Am I really that much of a danger to myself? That I had to be sedated _and_ restrained to this bed? Is this really that bad? There soon was a sharp pinch on my arm and I am instantly tensed up. I turned to look about at the guy who tried to calm me down before. This time I listened to him and looked into his eyes. I was shaking really bad as he held my hand and I could not remain still. I saw the nurse out of the corner of my eye, advancing towards us with a needle and I sucked in a deep gulp. The guy turned around and he looked to the nurse.

"Just give me a few second. I can do this." He said, his voice strong and the nurse stepped back and nodded her head. He looked back to me, eyes locked; His eyes reminded me a lot like Mikes. They were the chocolate brown, the type like I said earlier that hypnotizes you and seem endless. I could feel myself start to relax a little bit more but the needle poked into my wrist even deeper and I began to panic again.

"Vic, look at me. Look at me, good. Good that's it. Look at me and take deep breaths. Good Just keep doing that." For some odd reason, I trusted the guy. I didn't even know his name but I trusted him more than anybody else besides Mike. We kept eye contact the whole time until I was pretty much calmed down. The nurse walked over this time without the syringe but this time with just a red colored wrap. She sat on the right side of the bed and used the sticky gauze to wrap up my whole wrist. After a few short pulls and twists, I couldn't even see or feel the needle. I turned over my hand and couldn't even feel the horrid thing in my wrist. I quickly threw my arms around the dude's neck and sighed in relief. He helped me in a time of need and that is all I could ask for. His arms came around my back, very timid and stiff, and soon released and became soft around grip (**lol that's what she said).** I released my grip around the dude.

"Thank you so much. I was about to lose it and I didn't want any more drugs in me, but for some reason you kept me calm. And for me to become like that, it takes years for to hug someone and that never happened before. Thank you. Thank you so much." I said it and I meant every god damn word. That was scary and intense. He smiled and chuckled.

"No problem. When I came here about a week ago, I was the same way but this dude over here…" He pointed to the guy who had a somewhat normal voice; I think his name was Austin. I will ask later though, "Did the same thing for me. If I see someone struggling, like you for instance, I want them to know that I am here and it will be okay." He smiled. The nurse cleared her throat and the dude's head sunk down. He got off the bed and returned to his bed across the room and laid back down as the nurse redid his restrains. The nurse walked back to me and pulled out a syringe. I tense up and shield my eyes and waited for it to come, wishing I could hold the guy's hand but he was gone, yet still here. After waiting what seemed like a billion years, I opened my eyes and saw she put the shot into the IV tube and watched the medicine drip from the tube into my wrist and ending up in y veins.

"This is a heavy pain killer. You should fall asleep but you will wake up fine and dandy." She said as she walked out of the room. There was only one question on my mine and I was already fighting the sleeping meds.

"Heyyy" My voice coming out all slurred and high. The dude looked up.

"Yes Vic?" He asked, sounded interested and curious. I asked him a simple question.

"What is your name?" My voice sounding 100 times worse than it originally sounded. He chuckled a bit and looked back to me.

"The names Kellin Quinn."


End file.
